


Birds Should Not Be Caged

by AndyAstral



Series: There is Only Straw [5]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hypersexuality mention, James ironwood being a good friend, Non-Explicit Sex, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sad bird boi, Second chapter wont be as miserable I promise!, Suicidal Thoughts, Thinking a friend just tried to kill themself, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26659786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyAstral/pseuds/AndyAstral
Summary: Qrow hadn't left his room for more then 24 hours, barely responding to messages, barely leaving bed.Reaching out for help is hard. Waiting for a sign for help is hard.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen & James Ironwood
Series: There is Only Straw [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631611
Comments: 11
Kudos: 30





	Birds Should Not Be Caged

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Guys, I’m sort of in a cycle of highs and lows right now, so I’m working slowly. This is a vent fic. Sometimes you have days where you can't get put of bed, where you feel guilty for taking up space and being a bother, where you can barely string enough words together to speak or text.
> 
> You are not a bother. You are doing your best. People care about you. Keep moving forward.
> 
> References events that happen in There is Only Straw, up to chapter 32. It's a lot to read up too, and I did my best to make this a stand alone so it didn't have to be read.

With a deep sigh, James rubbed at his temples in a futile attempt to calm himself down. He sat in his office, watching the clock advance at a snail's pace, wondering if it was too soon to try to call Qrow again. He needed to get a response out of him but wasn't sure how.

The day of the fated mission had gone fairly smoothly; there were no security breaches in Mantle as his inner circle succeeded in all their search-and-destroy missions in the vicinity, Clover had gone to an inspection that could not be put off, and James was needed to supervise and assess the more dangerous training simulations for the seniors. A great start- until Oscar had called him, stating it was an emergency. 

They were stranded, halfway home from Amity with an engine that kept stalling. To make matters worse, Qrow wasn't responding to the boy, the rising emotions attracting large Grimm, ready to pounce. James couldn't risk their safety- there was no one else he could deploy- so he personally rushed out in his own airship.

The AK-200 at the wheel had been ordered to hit the brakes remotely with a brief click on James's scroll. The Grimm that circled pounced, and were met with a hail of bullets When the vehicle came to a halt, the general opened the back of the transport. Oscar was trying desperately to rouse the form on the floor of the truck. His heart had leapt, Oscar had been brief, but he should have mentioned injuries if there were any.

Qrow wasn't responsive. His heart raced because he had never seen his friend like this, Oscar next to him, panicking. Not when James picked him up and carried him into the plane (thin, thin and frail and _sick_ ) The medic looked him over, he wasn't in shock and James couldn't believe he wasn't. Qrow was barely responding to stimuli. Not until the medic told him that Qrow was _catatonic._

James knew his friend was depressed. He knows that Qrow has every reason to be- but to the state of catatonia? Qrow being unable to even snap out of it to defend Oscar, when the man's protective instincts were bordering on suicidal in nature when it came to his students. He sent Oscar to go fetch him water, and urgently, but gently prodded at Qrow to tell him what happened. He needed to know what triggered this.

"They know I'm a slut." He only mumbled. It was like a slap to the face. Qrow didn't speak after that. James had to speak to Oscar, he had to have had some idea on what set him off. 

“They were talking about his legs,” Oscar said, uncomfortably. “They said something about making him beg until he didn’t know if he wanted it or not? I don’t know what they meant.”

Oscar told him how he had overheard three guys talking in the unloading bay, mentioning promotions and the atlesian way to get them, talking about Qrow being up for promotion despite not being military, how Qrow was also listening in, how he overrode an AK driver and got it to speed them back, and only when Oscar began to ask questions did Qrow kneel forward, unable to breathe as the truck first stalled to a halt, no doubt from the man’s semblance going out of control.

James swallowed harshly. Hearing Oscar's confusing recount of what those men said had his blood boiling. James had set course to Amity, had Oscar pick out the men that had said such things and fired them immediately.

"We weren't going to do anything!" Said one. "It was all just talk, the kid doesn't know what he's talking about." Said another. The last one didn't speak, only scowled, not defending himself or begging for the general to see reason. He would have just imprisoned them because an NDA was not a physical way to stop them from running their mouths. He just wanted to throw them in a deep hole and bury them there.

These were his people. He knew their faces, their names. He wasn't a fool, he knew the military was still ripe with the kind of thinking he had tried to stamp out the moment he accumulated enough power. To their knowledge they only thought it was maintenance, so they didn't know of Amity's new purpose. The NDA would have to do. He can't have them arrested for their words alone, it would raise too many questions.

“But what did they mean?” Oscar asked. James didn’t know how to answer him. The young boy knew whatever he had overheard was bad to warrant such a reaction out of the adults. He deflected answering, sensing the frustration but grateful that Oscar dropped it completely. 

When he and Oscar returned to the ship, Qrow had not moved from where James had placed him. Staring off in the same space. For the second time in as many weeks, he was putting Qrow to bed, when he left the room Qrow was still sitting on the corner, staring off. James lied to Oscar, saying it was a symptom of quitting drinking- he knew the young teen would be telling the others what happened.

He did not want to leave his friend alone, having half a mind to bring his work into Qrow's suite so he can be there. He had even asked Qrow if he wanted him to stay. Qrow only shook his head.

It was currently 3 weeks in since the group arrived in Atlas. He had been hoping things were going well, the student- hunters, he corrected himself- were settling in fine. Qrow had told him about his experiences in Anima post Fall, about Cain, about how his drinking got worse after he stopped using his body to distract himself. 

Gods, he was worried. He considered installing a camera outside of Qrow's window so he would know his comings and goings. He knew Qrow would tear him a new one if he did so. He rationalized it as if he would put a camera in a hallway to cover a blind spot- but he rather not fight with Qrow about anything, so pushed the idea out of his mind.

He had both cameras on each hallway around the room set to track motion. The one to the elevator, and the one in the main hall. It was more likely that if he were to leave he would use the window, but it helped ease his own anxiety. If Qrow left the academy, he might go on a bender, he might seek someone out, something James was making sure wouldn't happen.

Qrow didn't leave his room after the incident. James scheduled the day off for him, much to the confusion of his flock of kids and Clover. He said Qrow isn't feeling well, and only Oscar knew some semblance of the truth. Because it wasn't a lie, Qrow wasn't feeling well. He just didn’t know how to explain that it was emotional instead of physical. It would have been easier to say he got injured.

He assured the girls that their uncle had not relapsed, but he got the feeling he wasn’t believed. Ruby looked disappointed, Yang looked resigned. It wasn’t his place to talk to them, he didn’t know how to.

He called Qrow’s scroll again, this time at around lunchtime. It rang out again. He sent a text instead. It took a while to get a response. He was tapping his fingers on his desk, reports abandoned.

* * *

 **JIRON** : _Are you awake?_

**QBRAN** : _yes_

**JIRON** : _Have you eaten?_

* * *

There was a pause, and James was worried he had gone back to sleep. The reports on his screens he barely glanced at.

* * *

 **QBRAN** : _i had juice_

**JIRON** : _Okay. I'll order take out, the usual?_

**QBRAN** : _no_

**JIRON** : _You need to eat. Would it be better if I had it sent to your door?_

**QBRAN** : _if you want_

* * *

It wasn’t a no, so that was good.

* * *

 **JIRON** : _Smoothie?_

**QBRAN** : _no_

* * *

The short replies were the best he was going to get. He set through the order, adding extra dumplings and another serving and hoping that Qrow would get around to eating. He was getting thin, far too thin. Was he still getting sick after eating? Besides the times they had takeout, he wasn't 100 percent sure Qrow was having other meals, he spent meal times in his suite, the only other substances he had seen the huntsman have was coffee and maybe a muffin from the snack tray in the mornings James came to the debriefings.

He didn't know what to do at a distance.

* * *

 **JIRON** : _It should be here in half an hour, okay? I'll message you when it gets here._

**QBRAN** : _ok_

**QBRAN** : _thank you_

**QBRAN** : _sorry_.

**JIRON** : _Sorry for what? It’s okay, jus_ t _promise to eat it when it gets there._

**JIRON:** _If you need anything else, you know you can call me._

* * *

He saw dots of Qrow typing a response, but it was short-lived, and no message came through. He forced himself to put the scroll back down.

* * *

Qrow was "sick", and to Winter that was always code for "drunk out of his mind."

The General was distracted because Qrow wasn't looking after himself. He was constantly checking his scroll to see if Qrow had messaged him at all. Morning announcements were of him constantly looking at his scroll.

It was unprofessional behaviour that was absolutely atypical of the headmaster general, but she did not bring attention to it, covering for him instead.

She had no idea what incident occurred the day before, only that it ended with Qrow hijacking a supply truck and speeding it back- why Ironwood trusted him to have an override code truly boggled her mind- something going wrong. Something always did with him around and Ironwood had to drop everything to fetch him and the only non licensed kid in his group. Not to mention the three Amity personnel that had been fired.

He was "sick". That was the reason she got, and that was it. No mention that the asshole probably provoked the personnel, knowing him. So he had the day off, and Ironwood was catering to Branwen's "sick" self.

When she passed Qrow's room, she saw that there was takeout sitting by his door. Untouched.

Frustrated, Winter picked up the takeout bag and knocked on the door. Her knock pushed it open. Typical that he wouldn’t even latch the security door properly.

"Branwen?" Was he even in? She looked across the room to the window, and saw it was closed.

She barely heard the shuffling in the bedroom before hearing him come down the hall and appearing. He didn't just look awful. He looked somehow like he had overslept, but hadn't slept at all. She didn't smell alcohol, which was the most surprising thing for her even if she saw him sway to an invisible breeze.

"Is it an emergency?" He asked hollowly, she barely heard him- like it was the first time he had talked in a while.

"No." She said, still eyeing him. "The General got you something to eat."

“Are you his delivery girl now?”

She felt her teeth snap together and what little patiences she mustered to come into the suite evaporate. “I saw that it was sitting outside your door going to waste. Eat it or not." She said, dumping it on the counter, noticing that oil was soaking through the boxes inside the bag, turning on her heels to leave.

“Wait.” She turned back sharply. Wondering what his game was, “I’m sorry. Thank you.”

She blinked at him, before settling back to a frown because Branwen never apologised without it being a part of some game. She refused to play and be sucked into some childish game where she was expected to be the rational one. 

“You should be thanking Ironwood, or apologising for distracting him.” She said, leaving without another word. Or she tried to. She wasn't raised in a barn so went to close the door. Only to find it wasn't clicking closed. She opened it again, ignoring Branwen watching her as she pulled it shut a little more forcefully. No latch. She opened it again in frustration.

"It doesn't lock." Branwen supplied helpfully.

"Put a ticket in to get it fixed, people can’t do everything for you." She huffed, closing the door, walking away even if she knew it was swinging back open as she left.

* * *

Qrow looked at the take out, still a little warm even if it had been sitting in the hallway for more than an hour. 

James had said to call him if he needed anything. Guilt throwing any thoughts of doing so out the window. He was already taking up too much of his time. And the nagging thought of what people think of their general taking precious time to tend to Qrow. How many more officers were speaking so casually about him getting sandwiched by their highest ranks? 

He spends a lot of time with James when he wasn't with the kids or on a mission, visiting him in his office whenever he pleased, whenever anyone came into the office he would be sitting on the table corner, doing his damn best to make the bastard take a break, Winter was always the most aggregated by it, Clover amused as all hell, not as much as a mindless bootlicker as he had thought.

It didn't help that there were no other other chairs in the office. Minimalistic dickhead. James just lets him do it without complaint, not _seriously_ berating him. It's a game they play, because Qrow isn't his subordinate, and not a Professor on his payroll either. They had less than serious talks about Qrow doing a guest lecture or two about long term tracking missions because Qrow promised to convince as many students as possible to travel instead of joining up with the Atlesian military.

He can't burden James anymore then he already has. He can't burden anyone else with this, he can do it himself, even if every passing moment he felt the tug back to bad habits.

The microwave jolted to a halt. Great. He smacked the side of it. No response.

Seeing it as a sign, He gave up on trying. He could have just eaten it cold, it occurred to him halfway to his bedroom, but he didn't want to. He slipped back under his covers to the warm spot he left behind. He's hungry, the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach sits steady. It's a familiar feeling nowadays, he just can’t keep anything _down_.

He felt pathetic. Oscar was right. If those men had tried anything, he could have taken them on, snapped their necks without breaking a sweat. So why did he run with his tail between his legs? _His mile long legs-_

A small part of him wonders if they had just _asked_ , he would have accepted. He can’t shake the feeling of foreign hands on his hips pulling him back from his knees, punching gasps and sighs from his lungs, the dream like stupor he wanted to reach for and nest in. Feel nothing and everything all at once.

He wanted to drink. He wants to find Clover. The ace op seemed the type to want it a little rough, the nicest people always were the ones who liked to put their hands around his neck. Qrow liked it too, just so he didn't have to think about anything but trying to breathe as someone used him for their own desires.

The ace operative had been making advances for weeks. He wouldn't turn Qrow down, Clover would jump at the chance. What would be wrong about it? They were both consenting adults. Qrow had noticed that he had been less frequent in his advances since the night he confessed to James everything that had happened. He wondered if Clover not going to the tundra yesterday was planned by James.

Damn him. But James was looking out for him in his own misguided way.

He won't. He won't use Clover. He bit back more guilt, thinking of the atlesian's smile that looked so genuine when he saw Qrow, lighting up like a firework in the night’s sky. It made him warm inside, it made his chest hurt.

He doesn't move from the bed, pulling the pillow into his chest, pressing his face into the top of it. His chest aches. The feeling is worse than any day after a binge, he could concentrate on bruises he didn't heal with aura from tight grips, a little hair of the dog to get him back to feeling a little buzzed.

He remembered a time after a one night stand. Never got his name, didn't care to. Qrow woke up in the morning not bruised, blanket up and tucked in, glass of water and aspirin on the bedside.

He wishes it never happened, because thinking about it even years later felt like a vice grip on his heart. It drove him to tears back then, not sure why he was sobbing at the glass and packet of pills. Was he truly so starved for care that his hookup leaving something for his inevitable hangover made him chest hurt? Because they had given him a second thought, because they had done something for him that they didn't benefit from.

For a moment, he felt loved before he realized how fucking stupid he was being and reached for his flask instead, but his hands were shaking so hard he couldn't even do that.

In the present he curled up tighter around the pillow. It was the fear of disappointing the kids that stopped him from drinking. He didn't want to be a better person. Not really. He couldn't hurt them anymore then he has.

_If you have enough, you won't feel bad about disappointing them._

The thought tempted him. He wouldn't care about them being upset or frustrated at him. He would just be drunk uncle Qrow, because he's always drinking, he's always drunk. What was he now? A mess, scrambling to figure out who he even was now. He was no longer a spy, nor a confidant to the man that he admired as a father for years. He was a fool, pretending to be a mentor, pretending he was ever wanted in his life.

He didn't want to be alone. He picked up his scroll. Typed out a message. Deleted it, retyped it. 

_Feeling bad._ Deleted. _Help please._ Deleted.

_Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic._

He threw his scroll, damning himself for even thinking about it. By some twist of fate, the wall hit the call button. James answered before the first ring even finished. James always waited to answer a call so people never got the impression he was easy to contact or would jump at a call.

"Qrow?" He asked, so concerned from the other side of the room. It broke all resolve he had.

Again, the stupid delusion of love caught him completely off gaurd. It hurt. Everything hurt. His chest, his stomach, his skull pounded. He didn't want to feel it, he just wanted to tear himself out of his body and feel _nothing_.

He could do that, couldn't he? He can't disappoint anyone if he's not around. He hugged his stomach, gasping for air, feeling himself burst as his eyes burned from the sting of tears.

_It doesn't have to hurt like this. Leave out the window. Mantle, get whiskey._

Anything was better than this feeling. He didn't move. Didn't trust himself to. He should be out there in the field, protecting the kids, killing Grimm. Instead he's here being useless, being a goddamn waste of space.

_Get whiskey get whiskey get whiskey get whiskey getwhiskeygetwhiskeygetwhiskey-_

He couldn't breathe, couldn’t speak. Why was it so wrong not to want to feel? 

_getwhiskeygetwhiskey_ **_getwhiskey_ **

**_getwhiskey get whiskey ge_ ** _t whi skey g t wh sk_

* * *

James didn't notice Winter enter the office. He had finally gotten into the headspace to begin typing out reports and catching up on work he had been unable to finish the day before.

"General, sir."

"Winter. Mission debriefings?"

Before she could open her mouth, they were interrupted. The ring was stupidly loud, a loud cawing of Qrow's ringtone- something that scared the absolute shit out of him the first time he called after he had somehow set the ringtone. When did he even get his hands on the scroll in the first place? Qrow wouldn't divulge his secrets.

Winter did not look impressed. He answered the call without even excusing himself.

"Qrow?" 

There was silence on the other side. He frowned, about to speak again before he heard a barely audible cry out of complete misery. Winter stared at him, stunned.

James didn't excuse himself. He ran, abandoning his scroll. A hundred thoughts raced through his head. Was he still in his room? Did he hurt himself? Why did he call? Did he hurt himself? Was he okay? _Did he hurt himself?_

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck_

He shouldn't have left Qrow alone. It was irresponsible of him- he thought he was just giving his friend the space he needed and time to himself but it was a _mistake_.

He was not gentle with the door, shoulder checking it- some part of his mind registering that it was already unlatched but he really didn't care. Takeout on the counter, barely touched next to the microwave. He pushed into Qrow's dark room, immediately seeing him curled up on the bed, shaking like he was in _pain._

He pulled at Qrow, bringing the shorter man's back into his own chest and making him sit up, bringing his arms away from his body, inspecting each arm. No blood. No cuts. The worst fear his panicked mind had come up with had not happened as he sighed in relief, relaxing only a fraction.

Qrow… Qrow howled with _laughter_. It sent a chill up his spine at how manic it was, his tear stained face and puffy red eyes.

"You- you thought I just tried to kill myself, didnt you?" He laughed again, high and hysteric. James didn't know what to say. "If I was gonna I wouldn't do it here, won't leave a mess to clean up."

James felt his heart beating hard in his throat, and tried to swallow as his mouth dried up at his friend's confession.

He left Qrow _alone_ like an _idiot._ He should have _known better_. "Don't say that." He said, not intending for it to sound so hoarse, squeezing Qrow tighter, like if he could get up, he would leave, and no one would ever see him again. "Please don't say that."

He can't lose another friend. He can't lose Qrow.

"Oh. Sorry." Qrow giggled, and his expression fell, and fresh tears pricked in his eyes. "Sorry. Sorry. _Sorry_."

He held Qrow tight as he began to sob anew, not letting go of his arms. James was _beyond_ worried now, feeling Qrow's breathing steady with each minute that passed as he cried himself hollow. He spied the scroll across the room looking like it had been thrown. If he could hazard a guess his friend had not changed out of his huntsman outfit the night before, he might have not even left the bed until the takeout arrived.

He would not leave his friend alone again. What was he thinking, just dumping him in bed and hoping that a day by himself would fix the issue? That he would slowly snap out of it himself?

"Shower. Get dressed." He ordered. Qrow raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" He asked, softly, breathing the word out.

"You’re having good food." He stated. "You know I can't cook. So we're going to a restaurant- and a shower would make you feel better."

Qrow continued to frown.

"I don't have any appointments this afternoon." He continued. "So let's go get something a little more sustainable then takeout." It was a lie, he had a meeting with his professors (that truly could just be an email) that he will postpone for the next day, and time put to the side to watch the seniors spar in the training room. He could supervise everything else from his scroll.

"I don't want to leave."

"It's only for a few hours." He said, trying to be convincing. "Fresh air."

Eventually, he was able to get his friend to agree to an early dinner, and left to get his affairs in order and afford Qrow some privacy to get ready.

Winter was waiting outside, the door hanging of a hinge. His abandon scroll in her hand. 

"I'll put a ticket in for the door." She said, ignoring how upset he looked, he was grateful for her discretion.

"Thank you, Winter." He said quietly.

She said nothing else.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Qorvid for edits.
> 
> This is placed a few days after James and Qrow's talk in Straw, and than after an incident that happened at Amity.
> 
> Basically. Oscar and Qrow overhear them making sexual comments about Qrow, and due to the last few months that Qrow has had, is incredibly upset about it.
> 
> Basically, while this is a vent fic that I worked on solely because I was sad, I wanted to just. Get into the dependency of these two. At this point in the timeline, Qrow has yet to become comfortable with Clover despite liking him. So he and James are hanging out more, being friends, and James being the friend that Qrow is relying on for emotional support.


End file.
